


Like a butterfly in a kaleidoscope

by Dooiney_Oie



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Also could be described as a nureyev character study masquerading as an actual fic, Gen, Jet POV if you couldn't tell from the summary, More accurately: jet and nureyev field trip and bonding time. Kind of, Not really but that's the funniest way to summarise this, Nureyev asks his grumpy uncle to please take him shopping, Set between tools of rust and shadows on the ship, probably canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dooiney_Oie/pseuds/Dooiney_Oie
Summary: The knock on my door comes during early afternoon, according to the ship's time, and mid-morning according to the time of the planet we are orbiting. It is short, and loud enough to be heard while not shaking the metal of the door, which is how I know before I open it that it is not Rita.It is Peter Ransom. To be more accurate, it is the man whose name was given to me as Peter Ransom.This does not make me as happy as if it had been Rita.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev & Jet Sikuliaq, background Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 29
Kudos: 121





	Like a butterfly in a kaleidoscope

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings for this, I don't think! One very brief moment where one character implies another might be high, but that's not the case. Feel free to let me know if I've missed anything though!
> 
> This is pure wish fulfillment, I just really want everyone to get along......

The knock on my door comes during early afternoon, according to the ship's time, and mid-morning according to the time of the planet we are orbiting. It is short, and loud enough to be heard while not shaking the metal of the door, which is how I know before I open it that it is not Rita.

It is Peter Ransom. To be more accurate, it is the man whose name was given to me as Peter Ransom.

This does not make me as happy as if it had been Rita.

"Ah, Jet, my good friend!" he starts before the door has even finished sliding out of the way. "How--"

"We are not friends," I correct him, "We are coworkers."

Ransom pauses for a moment. His smile dims to something much less blinding, and he clasps his hands behind his back. "I believe that the captain would say _family_ , but... fair enough." He draws himself up slightly, squaring his shoulders. "I'll get to the point, then. I need a favour."

"I will not agree to anything before you have elaborated," I inform him, to which he gives an overly gracious nod.

"Alright. Well, as you know, after that fiasco back on Neptune--" My grip on the doorframe tightens, and he suddenly changes tack. "Not your fault, of course, sometimes plans go awry, we can't always account for every possibility--"

"Your _point_ , Ransom."

"Ah. Yes, well." He clears his throat. "After what happened, we, of course, only have the one car left on the ship, and... if at all possible, I would like to borrow it. Just for a few hours - I only want to make a quick trip planetside, and then I'll have her back in the hold, good as new."

I do not like the sound of this favour.

"I am the only one who can drive the Ruby Seven."

His face shows a flicker of annoyance, but he won't meet my eyes. "Respectfully, Jet, I have driven her before--"

"During which time you _severely damaged it--_ "

"Which I assure you will not happen again!" Ransom replies loudly. From the flash of pained expression that follows, more loudly than I think he meant to. He clears his throat again and looks away. "Please, I - you know I wouldn't be asking if I had any other option. I respect you enough that I won't just take her without your permission. I just... want a few hours off of this ship. Alone."

I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts, and to search his face and posture for any trace of insincerity. He is obviously uncomfortable, obviously desperate, and the fact that he is doing so poorly in hiding those things points to him being very unsettled indeed. And, as much as I dislike him on a personal level, that is no excuse to be cruel to him.

That said, I do not trust that this is not an act, either, and that he will not simply take the car out into space and never return. As fond of Juno as he appears to be, I am not willing to stake the Ruby 7 on what is clearly a relationship with a tempestuous history.

"You are not driving the Ruby Seven."

His shoulders lift defensively. "If your intention is to make me beg, then--"

"However, if you need to go down to the surface that badly, then I will drive you there."

"...Oh." He blinks at me. "I - thank you, then."

Ransom seems surprised. I can't help but take some satisfaction in his uncertainty; for a moment, he is confused enough to not be anyone except himself, and I find this to feel like an achievement, for the brief time that it lasts.

I step away from the door. "It is clear that you will not be dissuaded. I will meet you in the loading bay in exactly ten minutes."

* * *

He bounces his leg as we take off, and continues to do so in short bursts as we enter orbit and then the atmosphere. It is out of character, and even more so it is distracting, and _annoying_. Eventually I feel the need to address both of these things.

"You appear distressed."

"Not at all," he says mildly. "Whatever gave you that impression?"

I adjust my grip on the wheel. "In normal circumstances, if we are left alone together, you have a tendency to... talk. Incessantly."

His eyebrow twitches. "...Perhaps I've only decided to spare your ears, then."

"In addition, your hands are shaking, your pupils are dilated, and you appear to be sweating more than is standard."

He lets out a light laugh that I do not believe is at all sincere. "Is that all?" he asks - stretching out in his seat as if lying on a chaise longue, and not sitting as a guest in the galaxy's finest getaway vehicle. "I'm perfectly fine, Jet, no need to worry about me."

"I am not worried. It was merely an observation."

He seems to deflate slightly at this. "Of course."

"However, if you have, for example, a narcotics-related issue, this is something that the captain or the ship's medic should be informed of."

"I'm not _high_ either, Jet, but thank you for your concern," he mutters.

"Once again: I am not concerned. It was only a statement of fact."

He closes his eyes and sighs. I do not feel the need to continue the conversation.

* * *

"Thank you for indulging me," he starts the moment the engine has stilled and the systems powered down. "If there's anything I can get for you while we're here, then..."

"I am not a taxi driver, Ransom. I do not require a fare."

"I - that isn't what I meant. I only--"

Whatever he sees in my face is enough to keep him from going any further. He simply shakes his head and unbuckles his seatbelt. "Alright, then. If I could ask you to return in a few hours, or keep an eye out for a comms message?"

"I will wait here. In case you decide to return early."

"That's really not necessary--"

"I will wait," I insist, much to his apparent distaste. "There are many stores in this area of interest to me, I think perhaps I will visit them."

He looks as if he wants to argue, but lets whatever objections he has go with a look of suppressed resignation as he exits the vehicle. "If that's what you want to do. Then... I'll see you in a few hours. Goodbye, Ruby."

"That is very vague," I call after him over Ruby's responding whistle. "I will return here in exactly three hours."

He leaves in one direction with another sigh, and I secure the Ruby 7 to a standard I am satisfied with and leave in another. I am not worried about leaving the car unattended, as I am in possession of the only key and it is far too complicated a machine to be hotwired or otherwise broken into, but it is very distinctive, and so I am concerned with discretion in deciding where and how to leave it.

Once this is accomplished, I walk the streets for some time before coming to a large open-air market. I was not being deceitful when I said that there were wares here that interested me, and I take my time with my browsing. After an hour or so I decide that the heat of the crowd is becoming overwhelming and that I am thirsty, and so I find a stall selling decaffeinated tea and go to sit at one of the covered tables placed outside of it.

That is when I spot Ransom moving amongst the crowd, seemingly unaware that I am here. He is not, however, acting the way I know Ransom to be - his shoulders are slumped forward, eyes lowered and hands in his pockets, and he clips people carelessly as he passes. If not for the fact that my predispositions make any form of gambling unwise, I would be willing to bet that those people are passing onwards without the weight of their valuables.

The crowd shifts, and the next time I catch sight of him he is straight-backed, eyes up but walled off. The next time, he looks nervously from side to side, and the next casually distant, uninterested yet languid.

I see him pass by several more times over the next thirty minutes, each time wearing a different face, posture, and personality despite changing nothing about his appearance. It is at once both impressive, and also unsettling. The display speaks heavily to his skills as a con artist, which is a reassuring asset to our team, but it is also a reminder that the man's personality often seems to be little more than paint on a canvas, or the changing shapes at the end of a kaleidoscope, and is therefore entirely untrustworthy.

I am almost finished with my second cup of tea when he catches me watching him, and his expression shifts from the blank-eyed smile he had been wearing to a face that is completely guarded, if only for a moment. Almost immediately, he reverts to the Ransom I am familiar with - distantly friendly, ingratiating and, ultimately, completely disingenuous.

"Is this seat taken?" he asks as he approaches my table, not breaking his stride. I do not roll my eyes, because that would be childish of me.

"A redundant question, seeing as you have already sat down in it."

"Mmn." He folds one leg over the other, resting ankle to knee, and leans back into the chair. In terms of body language, it is a decisive display of casualness, but I have spent long enough living in close quarters with this man to know that he is rarely actually relaxed, and is especially not so now.

I believe that there is only one instance, in fact, where I have seen the thief as he actually is, and completely at ease. It occurred during a family activity, an event where the entire crew was assembled together in the ship's recreational room, for the purpose of viewing a stream as a group.

I did not realise at the time that Ransom had fallen asleep until Vespa had drawn attention to it by complaining about his snoring. Juno responded with a sharp remark about it being barely audible over the stream anyway, which resulted in a predictable argument which was predictably resolved by Buddy's intervention.

I do not believe that anyone else saw what I saw in the midst of this, which is that Ransom had stirred as a result of the raised voices and Juno jostling him against his shoulder, looking briefly fearful, then confused, and then he spent a few seconds staring blearily up at Juno in what seemed to be something like awe before smiling and falling asleep again with impressive speed. I don't believe he realised that anyone was watching him, and therefore have no doubt that if there is any time I have seen the authentic face of the nameless thief, that it was at that moment.

The expression he wears now is a poor mockery of that easy smile, by comparison, but I doubt that I would have been able to say as much at the beginning of our crew's time together. I also doubt that Ransom would have been able to stay quiet for as long as he has so far, but no moment ever lasts forever - particularly not the peaceful ones.

He starts pulling items out of his pockets - a wristwatch, some rings, assorted business cards, a string of beads, a pocket knife, what appears to be half of a portion of flatbread, as well as a considerable amount of creds - and setting them out on the table. As the pile starts to become more and more sizeable, I feel it necessary to share my concerns.

"Perhaps you should carry this out back on the ship."

He does not reply. I find this irritating.

" _You are going to draw attention to us, Ransom._ "

He finally acknowledges me - acting as if he had completely forgotten I was here at all. I do not at all understand the games this man plays, and whether the purpose of them is to unsettle or merely irritate me. "Hm? Oh, no - no-one's going to bother paying any attention to _us_."

"You are covering the table with stolen goods."

"And who's to say so?" Ransom snorts. "Besides, everyone here is far too busy getting on with their day to worry about what I'm doing - that's the whole point of working in a crowd in the first place."

I continue to make my disapproval evident, and after a few moments he looks over at me again before ceasing his unpacking. It seems to me that he is resisting rolling his eyes. "But, if it puts you at ease, I'll tend to it later."

"Please do so."

He begins to return the pile to his pockets item by item, only briefly pausing to furrow his brow at the back of the watch and place it into a separate pocket from the rest. Once that's done, he leans his chin onto his hand and pockets a few of the sugar packets from the table.

"You don't like crowds, do you, Jet?"

"I do not."

"Any reason in particular?"

"They are loud, full of witnesses, and present far too many opportunities for a person to get close to you without you seeing them first."

Ransom appears to consider this. He turns his eyes back onto the crowd and tilts his head. "Hm."

"Do you have something to say?"

"Oh, not really. I simply find it curious that I hold the exact opposite opinion for the exact same reasons." He stands, and brushes himself off as if there had been a single smudge of dirt on him to begin with. "Now, I believe I have another hour here."

"Fifty-seven minutes," I correct, but he has already vanished into the crowd.

Well, if he is putting aside time to maintain his skills, I see no reason not to do the same.

It takes me no more than five minutes to locate him again, which I find to be very satisfactory. Keeping track of him beyond that point proves more difficult, but I am determined to exercise this ability, and as at home as he is in the crowd, Ransom seems a perfect target to test myself against.

I have been following him for somewhere around twenty minutes when he pauses at a corner for a long moment, fiddling with the pocket that he had secreted the watch into earlier. He seems to wrestle with himself for a while, and then whichever side of the conflict had been compelling him towards the police station appears to win out, and he starts forward with a sigh.

I position myself underneath an open window to listen once he has gone inside. I have other means of hearing what is happening inside the building, but this is the least obtrusive of them, and so remains my first choice. Soon enough, I can make out the sound of the nameless thief play-acting at being an upstanding citizen.

"--found it out on the street - normally I wouldn't think much of it, but it has an engraving, you'll notice; I'm sure someone will be out looking for it soon enough--"

I leave the area well before he has a chance to finish the transaction, to minimise the risk of being discovered. As I walk, I take the time to turn over what I have witnessed. Peter Ransom, needlessly exposing himself to the authorities in order to hand over a watch, for the sole reason that it could hold some sentimental value to the person he himself took it from. I hadn't thought him to have any conscience at all, yet here is some evidence of one. Perhaps this is what Juno sees in him - something buried far beneath the title of the nameless thief that is more trustworthy than his aliases. It is something worth considering, and keeping in mind, perhaps.

It was a needless risk to take, however. From a professional stance, I will not praise him for it.

* * *

He is calmer during the journey back to the ship, and, thankfully, quieter. Whatever nervous energy had been causing his fidgeting before appears to have been expended. Good. A nervous thief makes mistakes, and we cannot afford to make any more of those during our next moves than we have already.

I still do not know why he was so compelled to make the trip down to this planet. The city was not anything special, and he does not appear to have purchased anything. Was collecting several pocketfuls of assorted knick-knacks the entire point of the exercise?

I play back our earlier conversation to myself. In hindsight, he had not asked to visit the planet as much as to be allowed to leave the ship. Alone, specifically. And the only activity he performed during his time on the surface was to wander through the city crowds as if he were a part of them, completely unnoticed.

As we exit the car and I follow him down the hall towards the kitchen, I can see the tension from earlier today slowly returning to him - and to my surprise, I think I know the source. All his shades of changing colour have no camouflage in so sparse an environment; he has nowhere to hide. There is no shifting backdrop for him to blur himself against, and thus he feels exposed, waiting for something bigger than him to swoop down and take him in its jaws.

I think, perhaps, that I know this man better than I had previously thought.

It occurs to me that while I find my peace in consistency, he appears to find his in exactly the opposite - or perhaps a different kind. Rather, the consistency of change; knowing with certainty that each day will always be different to the last is ultimately equivalent in effect to knowing each day will hold the same as the next. Strange, but it rings true. And if I myself find it difficult, now, to cope with deviation from my routines, then it is likely that a man such as this, who has made uncertainty his home, would have similar trouble keeping still. He does not find comfort in silence in the way that I can, but rather in the anonymity of chaos, the ability to not be singled out as one sound among the noise.

I still do not trust him. Perhaps I never will. But, I feel that I have now gained a better understanding, and that is advantageous in a working relationship, if nothing else.

"You may ask me again, if you would ever like to leave the ship," I say before he peels away into the kitchen, where I can see Juno engaged in a heated discussion with Rita that given the time and location is most likely about making dinner. For all of her many strengths, I do not consider Rita to be gifted in the culinary arts the way that Juno has proved himself so far, and surmise this is probably the source of the conflict. "At least until we can acquire a new secondary vehicle."

Ransom looks at me with what seems like genuine surprise. For a moment, I fancy he rests his wings. "Uh - ah," he manages, eloquence seemingly having fallen by the wayside, "I-- Thank you."

"Do not mention it. I mean this literally."

"Hell've you been, Ransom?" Juno shouts from behind him, more sulkiness in his tone than anger. "You said you'd be here to help out."

"Ah - just getting some air, my dear," Ransom smiles, immediately making his way over with only the barest suggestion of a backwards glance. Juno frowns past him to look at me instead.

"With Jet?"

"Unrecycled air is good for the spirit," I inform him, and walk away before I can be dragged any further into the conversation - or into mediating whatever argument had been in progress about dinner. Juno is probably in the right, but I am also very familiar with Rita's ability to make a questionable idea sound very compelling in the moment, and Juno is better equipped to deal with that aspect of her personality than I am myself.

Buddy is waiting for me at the end of the hall. I did, of course, make sure to clear the trip with her shortly before we left.

"So the duo returns. Did you have a productive outing?" she asks.

"I found several parts at the markets that have great potential to be useful on our journey," I confirm. She smiles and raises her one visible eyebrow.

"Anything else?"

"I have confirmed that Peter Ransom is a very perplexing individual."

She laughs. This was the expected response, and I find the sound relaxing. Buddy Aurinko has a very reassuring presence, and her good moods have a tendency to be infectious. I trust her, and her judgement, more than anyone else I have ever met. If she - and Juno as well, I think as I hear him laughing from down the hall - can see something in Ransom that I cannot, then I think that it would benefit me to at least attempt to look harder. Perhaps I did indeed catch a glimpse of whatever it is those two are seeing today.

I hear a shout replace the laughter that had been coming from the kitchen, and the sound of Rita's voice in a worried tone, followed by the sound of the smoke and fire alarms in unison. After taking a breath, I sigh and turn away to resolve whatever disaster Ransom has managed to cause with his "help." _Again._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a kudos and a comment for me to enjoy too! They're much appreciated ❤


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